Learning how to love
by chloemcg
Summary: A month after the death of Randall Ascot, Hershel Layton struggles through life in Stansbury as he's forced into a regular life but what happens if he meets a young lady named Claire Foley who is an exchange student from London? Will she save our future gentleman and what happens if Hershel becomes smitten with this girl? Filled with LaytonXClaire!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton or Claire or anyone else in this story, they belong to Level 5 games and nobody else!**

**Learning how to love.**

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><p>"I'm sorry, Hershel, but this is the only job I could get with everything going on right now."<p>

Roland Layton apologised, a sympathetic frown being sported against his jolly beard and little ivory moustache that complimented it. He had just been telling his son about a job he had managed to get him after the young man announced that he was looking for work in a town buried up to its neck in fossils.

The young man, Hershel Layton, sighed irritably as he massaged his brow to suppress the chances of an oncoming headache. He couldn't believe that he had been given such a occupation to begin with, he couldn't even be entirely certain of how he had been roped into this in the first place.

After the recent loss of Randall Ascot, Hershel's best friend, life in Stansbury had been very rough and since everything was about archaeology before things had been shuffled around a bit to shake things on a whole new level.

Life was all about lemonade right now.

About a week or so after Randall's "death" a very unpleasant businessman by the name of Tyrone Phelps had set up shop in the local market and everyone had chose to work there quickly since it was a very fabulously wealthy job to have for any poor folk.

Hershel didn't like the idea of this man to begin with but he didn't exactly have much choice in the matter either. He had recently uncovered that his parents were going bankrupt and were in need of some financial aid, which his father could no longer support since he had thrown his back out during a job months prior to this, and he decided to do what he could to make their lives easier.

"N-No, its fine pa." Hershel shook his head quickly in an attempt to convince his father that this was a fine job choice to go down. He faked a smile as he looked at his worried parents "I must thank you for getting the job for me."

Honestly, the young Layton didn't know how he was going to cope with any of this. He still had school to attend to and now he was going to work a very tough job selling bitter Lemonade to poor thirsty costumers who didn't really have any other way to spend money right at the moment given how that the Stansbury profit with tourists was just not working on its own anymore.

He ran a lazy hand through his bouncy, hazel brown Afro. He made sure his fingertips wouldn't catch on any of the curls contained in his unkempt do but it seemed that trying to ignore the beads of sweat trickling down his face just wasn't holding up as far as hiding his inner dread went.

He forced a chuckle under his breath in hopes to ease his parent's troubled minds but the looks they gave him were filled with concern all the same.

It was made apparent very quickly that they didn't want to force him to work like this but they didn't really have any other way of keeping the bread on the table. Their parental instincts suffered for it and as did their nighttime sleep, leaving them constantly prone to insomnia, and neither Lucille nor Roland could put into words how proud they really were of their adopted son;

Hershel was always a clever little dot -a sharp one, to be sure- and he was always very tentative and was a very good listener when it came to other people's problems. Needless to say his world was a little bit dull and some excitement would probably be needed to fill in that crater that had just started to fill in his soul where Randall's absence had opened up.

The boy asked while cracking the biggest fake grin he could ever hope to manage through his sour, rectangular face "So when do I start?"

While he put on a brave face outward, within he was actually suffering. He had been pulled through stormy tides of terrors and nightmares ever since his best friend had...well, passed on.

His friends had deliberately avoided him, the village folk would constantly bring up how sorry they were that Hershel had to witness his friend's death right before his eyes, going to school and being taunted for his mistakes didn't help and he just couldn't find a shred of peace anywhere.

It was a very hard life to lead.

Regardless of the pain he felt grating his heart much like a cheese grater would with cheese, the young man listened out for the details of this new job he had officially been bestowed with. However he never felt like such a minority in his whole life and didn't want to ever feel like this again, despite the fact that his heart ached deep within.

Hershel Layton never expected that he would eventually be having to work and toil in a Lemonade shop run by a control freak maniac.

"Apparently you'll be starting tomorrow, Hershel," Lucille informed him, patting his tense shoulder gingerly as she too tried to smile despite the circumstances "your uniform should arrive in the post tomorrow."

Hershel said nothing but just nodded in response.

"...Thank you for telling me, Ma and Pa." His voice was dripping with depressing sarcasm as he excused himself from the sitting room where he and his parents were having this discussion, turned on his feet and trudged moodily up the stairs into his bedroom.

His footsteps were heavy against the hollowed stairs as he ascended up the pitch black staircase, his hand running smoothly up the banister as he leaned halfway against it to guide him through the darkness of the upstairs.

He sighed morbidly in depression as he finally clambered to the top of the stairs and he waltzed into his bedroom.

Hershel took note of a small shred of moonlight shining through the window, lighting a small part of the room up, and he used it to find his way into bed.

He shrugged his school vest off his shoulders and slid into his bed from the side, his eyes lonesome as he stared up at the boring ceiling above him. He found that white-cream was a very boring colour in his sense yet he couldn't take his eyes off it, somehow staring at this wall made him feel an ounce of clarity as he tried to take his mind of the grief and remorse he felt for his best friend.

He felt exhausted but he couldn't sleep either. It was a feeling that would rob him from a decent night sleep and when he did sleep, it would make him toss and turn feverishly beneath the covers of his bed. He just couldn't explain this at all as his head thumped back against the pillow and he gave up trying to sleep. He laid on his back and just stared up at the ceiling with his face concealed by the darkness of the night.

His mind numb, Hershel rolled on to his side to face the wall and he wanted nothing more than the shadows foreshadowing his presence to swallow him up right there and then so he would no longer have to live with the agony of losing Randal. He laid there awake, his eyes very persistent against slipping into the sleep he yearned for. He just ached all over as he closed his eyes and decided to try and let the darkness overcome him and hopefully take him away into the ground below.

What Hershel had yet to realize was that even though his life was void of joy now, things just might turn upside down.

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><p><strong>AN: I know that this was a sad prologue but it will get better.**

**This takes place just after Professor Layton loses Randall and we see how he bounces back, with the help of a certain young lady who we shall come to see soon and I can't wait to start this. I thought it would be funny to see the professor work as a Lemonade seller or something because he had to have a job to support his family before he became a Professor of archaeology.**

**This is how I think Hersh and Claire met.**

**I don't do many love stories but, hey, theres an occasion for everything.**

**Please review and tell me what you think.**

**-Chloemcg.**


	2. The job

**Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton or Claire or anyone else in this story, they belong to Level 5 games and nobody else!**

**Learning how to love.**

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><p>Hershel, dressed in an apron and wearing a hair net, sighed dejectedly as he used a dish cloth to scrub off a messy plate, the rancid stench of lemon shaving assaulting his nostrils as he felt some puke building up inside his throat to signal that he was getting very aggravated with the disgusting smell that he would likely not want to smell for months after this.<p>

For a week now he had been working in this stupid job that he hated quite a lot and he wasn't really one for complaining about this but it wasn't really a fair job to work in. He would be told to do something by his fickle-minded boss but then the boss would have a different task in mind for him and howl at him for doing the wrong thing.

For some reason, Hershel felt like he was the favourite to have been picked on here. He was the one most haze was directed at nowadays and he didn't even really do anything wrong!

The gentleman-to-be hummed a little merry tune as he stood at the sink whilst he stacked the plates in a nice little pile while they cleanly soaked in the running tap water, shining like polished whistles in the light being cast down upon them from the lamp hanging overhead and they seemed to have been in good condition.

"OI, LAYTON!" A voice roared angrily, snapping Hershel from his daydream and startling him into dropping the piece of porcelain he had been washing off with a damp cloth moments prior. His face twisted from one of utter boredom into one of surprise and shock as the sound of shattering glass broke through his eardrums and he jolted awake.

Hurriedly getting himself together, the young man turned his attention to the owner of that booming voice and found himself looking up into the angry eyes of a man with dark skin and he was also quite tubby in the mid section, the scent of sweat and old lemon shavings mixing in the air in his presence. The man was clad in a yellow and lime-striped apron and he wore a little cap upon his huge, rock hard head.

Hershel trembled under the stern gaze of his boss and he asked "Y-Yes sir?"

The tall black man with the figure of a skyscraper glared daggers right through the 17 year old Layton as he stomped his foot demandingly on the marble floors below, making Hershel jump startled by the sudden boom of a noise his foot made whence it came thundering down to the ground.

"Why aren't you peeling those lemons like I asked you to?!" He asked with his naturally low voice laced with a wolffish growl.

His shadow stretched over the young man who tried to keep a calm head about how intimidating his boss was when he approached him in such a scarily calm demeanour, trying not to crack beneath the fright this guy always struck him with like a knife plunging into your heart.

Confused and startled, Hershel kept a calm head as he simply held his hands out in a calm gesture "But, Mr. Phelps, did you not ask me to clean the dishes?"

He tilted his head to one side in confusion as he asked this, his expression blank. It seemed that his employer had once again decided to try slipping a job beneath him as the perfect excuse to deliver some form of verbal or psychical abuse but, despite that he wasn't usually one to take that sort of thing lying down, he knew that he had to bear through it.

This was the best job available right now and he couldn't afford to let his parents go through any form of poverty, not while he was around.

"Don't get sarcastic on me, boy!"

The man snarled angrily, his muscular arm swinging before throwing it forwards and smacking his young employer around the face so he could tumble to the ground with many more plates falling to the ground around him and covering him in yellow stains and glass pieces.

Hershel laid there for a few moments before he slowly picked himself off the ground, dusting himself off and ignoring the sudden tingling sensation to his eye. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the slap sent his way moments ago must have resulted in getting a black eye. This was confirmed when the young man reached up to touch his stinging eye but he quickly pulled his hand away from it whence he felt the swollen eye sharply sting upon the contact his fingers left.

Sparing a glare to his boss, Hershel climbed back up to his feet before he went to go and retrieve some napkins and other things to wipe up the mess on the floor.

He grumbled under his breath as he wandered towards a towel dispenser and grabbed a few of the soft materials before he returned to the spillage on the floor and he began the sluggish process of cleaning the mess up so he could try and move on to that other job that was shoved on to his priority list.

Slowly, he dropped back down to the floor.

"Hmph. Blimey, the man did not need to act so rashly..." He started to use the napkins to wipe up the lemonade spilt on the floor and the shattered pieces of plate, grumbling moodily beneath his breath, and he slowly gathered the broken pieces of plate into a neat pile and he carried them (protectively, of course) to a rubbish bin and he dropped the broken pieces inside.

Right now his life was just unfair...

Sighing irritably and recollecting the calm composure he had adopted, he prestigiously walked back towards the kitchen sink and he grabbed some lemons off from the counter as well as a cheese grater.

Ignoring his black eye, Layton scraped the lemon along the cheese grater so little stringy bits could fall through the metal kitchen tool and into a bowl. Once again the appalling smell of sour lemon juice reached his nose and almost got a gag out of him but he managed to keep a calm head like he always done.

Hershel drew in a slow breath before letting it back out so he could keep himself calm and well-maintained.

The lemonade restaurant was a new establishment that consisted in many lemon-related dishes and beverages that would always find a way to have a scent that burned into both of Hershel's mind and into his olfactory receptors. He didn't exactly know what was with lemons these days but the boss was especially a lover of the yellow sour fruit, that was obvious, but the fact that there was lemons everywhere in the menu drove Layton bonkers.

He continued to sprinkle some lemon residue into the bowl beneath the cheese grater. He decided to hum a little tune while he done this, wagging his hips from side to side so they could synchronise with the beat of the song he murmured under his hushed breath.

However his humming was cut off when he heard a bell 'ding' and he lifted his head to gaze at the reception counter and saw that there was no cashier yet there was a costumer awaiting their order.

Hershel put a thoughtful hand to his chin and closed his eyes in deep thought. While he was supposed to take care of the lemons and make sure they were grated into little sprinkled bits, he could most certainly recall that his boss didn't exactly say that he couldn't go and rectify an error in one of the employees duties.

"...Hmm, well he didn't say I _couldn't _sort this little mishap out." He told himself with a rather mischievous yet confident smile tugging his lips into a curled line.

Dusting himself off from the sprinkles that went astray on his apron, trying to make himself look more presentable, and he abandoned the lemons so he could go to the counter and not keep the costumer waiting for so long.

"Hello there, madam, what can I help you with-!" Hershel asked but then he saw the costumer's face. He was rendered speechless within the blink of an eye.

The young lady he saw was a pretty thing indeed. She had a nice round face, her eyes shone through the lens of her round-framed pair of glasses and she had fine ginger hair that was pulled back into a nice ponytail. She wore a red cardigan and a chequered skirt that was red in the pattern.

She looked to be about maybe a little younger than Hershel but she also seemed to have wore clothing that was akin to a school uniform.

The girl blinked with a smile as she requested "Hello, good sir, if its alright can I have a glass of lemonade? Its a real scorcher out there today."

Hershel was flabbergasted to the point where he couldn't even speak properly. How could this angel of a woman exist? She seemed to have been a very polite girl too so he decided to snap himself out of it as he smiled warmly at her, giving her a subtle bow with a hand swept over his stomach whilst he bent forwards.

"Ah, of course. Let me get you some."

He abandoned his bow and hurried back behind the counter and quickly got a cup and he began to make some lemonade. Hershel glanced over his shoulder to the young woman occasionally and decided to make some small talk to her, it would have been a nice change of pace and besides it actually brought his mood back up.

"So..." He started slowly through his hands quaking anxiously "I haven't seen you around before, have you moved here recently?"

The young lady giggled, finding his slight clumsiness amusing, and she shook her head "Actually I'm here as an exchange student from London."

Hershel gave a light-hearted whistle of amazement. London, huh? That did seem like a nice place to live alright! But why would she be here in the first place as an exchange student?

Luckily for him, the girl answered this question before he could even open his mouth to ask.

"I'm just attending Mr. Collin's class of the local college until the end of term."

Hershel's eyes lit up like stars. She was attending his school, seriously!? That was the best news ever since he really wanted somebody to talk to since -again- his friends have been avoiding him since the loss of his dear friend Randal. It did hurt him every time he remembered that fact but he tried to ignore it.

If he wasn't holding some cups right now he would he done a dance of rejoice.

Hershel asked, glancing over his shoulder again to see her "O-Oh really?" His voice tone brightened up "I go to Mr. Collin's class, he's the history teacher."

From out of the corner of his eye, he saw the young lady smile cheerily in response. He had to confess, she was utterly adorable in a sense and that little face she had did make his heart race for some reason or rather.

Hershel smiled, a blush creeping on to his cheeks and tainting them a dark red colour "He is rather strict at times but he is a very nice man when you know him well enough."

The girl nodded with a smile. She looked really thankful for that information as she rocked back and forth on the heels of her little buckle shoes with the her hands locked behind her back. She stood on her tip-toes as to help her see over towards the young man assisting her and she looked around for any other employers, a small frown on her face.

"...Erm, aren't there any other people to help you?" She asked.

Hershel shrugged his shoulders lazily but his voice remained earnest "Not at the moment, it seems; it would appear that everyone is on their break."

The young lady looked kind of empathetic as she peered closer to see the young man's face hiding behind that large Afro that hid beneath the hairnet. There wasn't any signs of him being sad because of this but it still bothered her that the poor man was being treated unfairly.

Giving a steady slur of speech, the young lady asked another question "But what about you?"

Hershel didn't reply.

He didn't want to bring up the fact that he was the target of bullying here and shame the poor lass very bombarding her with his problems. It was his burden to carry and his alone, he shouldn't need anyone to help shoulder it when they didn't deserve it.

Again, he shrugged his shoulders "...I think your lemonade is almost ready."

The young lady sighed with a sad smile. Hershel knew that she probably didn't want to bombard him with irrelevant queries either despite the concern swimming in her eyes and decided to just prepare the whole thing quickly so they could jump off the topic.

He squeezed a lemon into juice, emptying it into the cup, and when the beverage was prepared he simply carried it back over to her and held it out towards her with a soft smile gracing his lips. Hershel watched eagerly as the young lady took the cup from him and hold it carefully in her hands as if it was the most frailest of glass and she looked back up at him with a smile.

Hershel held out his palm expectantly, even though doing this killed him on the inside "That would be £3.30, madam."

The girl seemed shocked at how expensive this was. Three pounds and thirty pence for a single cup of lemonade!? That was very stingy if she were to say so herself...

However, as she was digging around in her pocket, she was stopped by the young man who continued to smile gently at her and he looked shiftily around as if he was checking to see if there was anyone who could see this before he whispered one, tiny sentence in her ear:

"Its free."

She couldn't even ask much more before Hershel gently pushed her back towards the direction of the open door but she couldn't help but look back at him when she realised that a big, black bruise was starting to make itself known over one of his eyes.

The young lady, feeling guilty, hurried out the door but she looked at the young man through worried eyes and she mouthed the words "See you at school" to which Hershel nodded, accepting that he was to see her again.

While he had a chance to peer into the cash machine, he popped it open while removing four whole coins from his trouser pocket and he dropped them into the machine before hastily closing it and scurrying back behind the sink so he could continue with the lemons.

Moments later, the boss returned with a sandwich in his hand and a few chomps were taken out of it as he glared evil eyes at the young lad who had just been kind to a costumer without his knowledge.

He asked moodily "Did anything happen while I was gone, Layton?"

Hershel hid a secret smile as best as he could. He couldn't deny that the face he made as it twisted in tight determination made his eye sting badly but he didn't really care about it. He shook his head and lied "Nope, nothing happened, sir."

As the boss dismissed this, Hershel laughed cheekily under his breath. He was glad to have gotten a hint of payback at least, lying to his boss about this felt good and he usually hated rule breaking.

However he couldn't help but wonder when he would see that girl again? He didn't even get to learn her name...

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><p><strong>AN: This is the second chapter up.**

**Poor Hershel Layton, he seems to have it rough. We shall see what else he goes through in the next chapter then shall we?**

**I also made a slight "Layton brothers" reference and I would like you to see if you have spotted it.**

**I'll give you ONE guess who that girl was who the not-yet-Professor had just helped out. **

**Reviews would be highly appreciated.**

**-Chloemcg**


	3. Introductions

**Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton or Claire or anyone else in this story, they belong to Level 5 games and nobody else!**

**Learning how to love.**

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><p>Hershel walked aimlessly down the hallways, a book or two held under one arm whilst the other one swung like a pendulum back and forwards with every step he took through the building. He kept his head low to hide the fact that he was wearing an eyepatch but that didn't exactly make him inconspicuous.<p>

He was just on his way back to Mr. Collin's classroom after a lesson about conducting police investigations -although what that has to do with anything later in life unless you wanted to be a police detective was somewhat beyond him- and people had been bumping him on the side as they passed through the dim-lit halls of the school.

It had been about maybe a day since he had met that girl and he couldn't stop thinking about her. He had yet to formally see her in a class introduction, let alone in the whole faculty, and he found himself suddenly thinking about how he had helped the young lass out in a jam with the expenses of the lemonade he had made for her himself.

He couldn't help but wonder how she had been faring since then.

Little did he know was that he was about to run into her again sooner then he had originally anticipated...much, much sooner.

"Oh my goodness, LOOK OUT!" A voice yowled, just barely grabbing Hershel's attention in time before he and whoever yelled this obviously collided into one another before they were both knocked on to the floor with their eyes screwed shut as they tried to register what had just happened.

The knock sent the books Hershel carried slamming to the floor, though.

Hershel groaned as he clambered up to stand on his hands and knees, his posture resembling that of a crawling infant, and he slowly opened his eyes to see who he had bumped into moments earlier. His vision was a tiny bit hazy at first but he eventually managed to get a good assentive on who it was as he made out the outline of her face in the dim lighting of these hallways.

His eyes fell upon a pair of familiar purple rimmed spectacles and then the woman they most likely belonged to.

He was shocked to find that it was the same girl he had met in the shop before!

The young lady blindly searched for her glasses, her hand shifting through the air as if to make a blind grab for them. She squinted her pretty eyes at nothing as she gave a thoughtful murmur as her hand reached sideways to feel where her glasses had fallen.

Hershel quickly realised that the girl couldn't see well without those glasses fitted on her face, she was probably near-sighted, and fished them up from the floor before he took the liberty to clean the lens of her glasses with his sleeve before handing them back over to her.

"I must apologise for that, madam, I should have probably looked where I was going." He said more to himself than to the young lady in front of him, watching with a kind grin as the girl took the glasses out of his hand and began to readjust them on her face.

She sighed in relief when her glasses were back on her face but her eyes widened in shock to see the familiar eyepatch-wearing young man with the bouncy Afro knelt before her. She smiled happily in recognision as she climbed to her knees with a bright little smile.

"Oh its you!" The young lady exclaimed, a happiness shining in her eyes. She jumped to her feet and dusted herself off from the dust that may or may not have accumulated after both herself and the young man in front of her bowled each other over to the floor.

Hurriedly and with a heavy blush sporting his face, Layton quickly scooped up the books he had dropped and pushed himself up into a standing position so both himself and the young lady could meet in direct eye level. They stared at each other for awhile but the young lady cleared her throat to rid themselves of the awkward air lurking and she extended a hand out towards him.

"My name is Claire Foley." She smiled in a sweet, bubbly way "Sorry about yesterday, sir."

Hershel chuckled lightly at the girl's attempt of brushing it off but he happily returned the handshake as he stuffed the books he carried into one arm so he could extend his other one and grasp Claire's hand in his own.

"Pleasure, the name's Hershel Layton." He shook his head dismissively "And please there is no need to apoligise."

The two shook hands firmly as they exchanged warm grins as they stood in the hallways before they wandered down the hall towards the class room, Hershel acting as her chaperon for this little amount of time, and Claire walking alongside him with an intrigued smile. The two shared a brief conversation as they wandered along aimlessly through the corridor that dragged out in front of them but it seemed like a lifetime as they chatted.

"So what are you doing here in Stansbury, miss Foley? Surely there must be something here that intrigues you other then the historic sights and views..."

Claire was surprised. This guy seemed to pick up quick on the finer points and that was a very interesting quality to have equipped in a battle of wits. Winking deviously, Claire teased as she folded her arms across her chest in a cheeky manner "Well now, aren't you just a clever duck?"

Hershel didn't know whether the term "clever duck" was supposed to be a compliment or an insult but he wasn't going to complain, it was easy to see where this was going. He sheepishly scratched the back of his head and stammered nervously.

"Oh...Um...I...Er...That is..." He stopped trying to speak since he knew it would bring nothing but turmoil if he opened his mouth to respond to that. His mouth dropped into a small frown and his dark little eyes drooped to the floor to stare at his heavy feet that moved in long stretches that would most likely bring him aching muscles when he got to a more feeble age.

Despite giggling at the man's shy nature, Claire replied to the initial question "I heard tales that there was hints of a lost ancient civilisation here in this quaint little village and I came here to investigate."

Hershel's throat seized up and his chest tightened.

Why did that have to be brought up!? He could feel the mere memory of that day slice his heart in two before the blurred image of Randall's face filled his mind and burned into it, as if it was the type of tattoo meant to be permanently stamped on a horses flank as it burned on direct contact it had to the horses flesh.

His breath quivered as he breathed in and out to keep himself steady. He couldn't break down, not here and most definitely not now.

Claire noticed the pause the young man gave and knitted her brows together to paint a look of worry on her face, her lips drooping into the biggest frown.

"...Hershel, are you alright?"

Hershel sighed and nodded although the weak smile he gave to assure her proved to have been a very poor choice in movements if that was supposed to do its job. He didn't want to worry the little lady but he couldn't help but feel a little down now, now that he had just been reminded of the very thing that made him feel so lonesome.

The young man kept walking with Claire towards Mr. Collin's class and each step they made just inched them further and further to their destination.

Another subject bothering her, Claire looked right at the polite young lad's eyepatch and she asked with concern swimming in her blue pools, a finger twirling one of her long locks of vibrant red hair "So. What's with the eyepatch, Hershel?"

Hershel didn't reply verbally, he just simply put a hand over one side of his face -the side where he had been smacked- and just kept walking. He wanted to hide everything that would make him stick out in a crowd since he didn't exactly place any value in himself...not anymore, anyway.

He trudged forwards and tried to make her drop the subject "...Let's just not speak of it, please?"

And so Claire had to admit defeat for now. She wasn't really one to just surrender in things like this but she didn't really know the poor guy so she could not just go around batting around that he should tell her otherwise she could be rude and poking into his private affairs.

She only nodded, accepting the fact that this was one subject that shouldn't be brought up again in awhile, and she lightened up when a smile blossomed on her face and she brought a stiff Hershel Layton in for a sideways hug as she basically dragged him towards the classroom.

"What are we waiting for, Mr. Collins' will probably be having kittens by the time we get there! Come on, come on, let's go!"

And without another word, Claire pulled the reluctant Layton with her as she broke into a full on sprint -clearly disregarding the school rules due to pure excitement- and dragged him along behind her.

Hershel had to admit that this girl was a really admirable person and her optimistic smiles were delightfully contagious but he just couldn't understand her. She was a really peppy young lass and her intentions were noble but still...

Let's see what else he could find out from her later on. He had a feeling he was going to be tied to her for the whole day so he might as well get to know her a bit better.

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><p><strong>AN: This is where Hershel and Claire first meet officially and in the hallways of school, no less. **

**I am just trying to make this as realistic as possible by making it so it wasn't a cliché whirl-wind romance. I do find their relationship to be downright adorable, though, so don't blame me for trying to recreate their Love story.**

**Please review.**

**-Chloemcg**


	4. Puzzles and meltdowns

**Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton or Claire or anyone else in this story, they belong to Level 5 games and nobody else!**

**Learning how to love.**

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><p>Hershel sighed, near bored out of his skull as he stayed up in what he called "his sanctuary" as he fiddled with a little puzzle box he had received as an early birthday present and he hummed a little melody beneath his breath, his hands and fingers twisting and working the mechanism out slowly but surely.<p>

He may have found puzzles to be a very helpful way to pass the time, and he wouldn't lie because it really was, but he found his interest in them increase just a little bit whence he had been the victim of a very unfortunate circumstance. The lad with the bouncy Afro lain down on a single branch up in a tree that was growing in the courtyard of the school and it was a place where he would spent many of his free times nowadays.

Hershel hadn't seen anybody he knew so far today, other than that Claire girl, and he just couldn't really bring himself to care right now since he had been on the run from a certain young man who had a habit of antagonising him to such a degree that poor young Layton had to resort to the art of camouflage.

He knew that what he was wearing wouldn't match the colouration of the tree he hid in but the branch he laid down on was broad and strong enough to hide his moderately skinny outline and the leaves changing from green to orange-red colours made it easy to hide his big springy Afro from anyone who should happen to pass him by.

Despite this, though, Hershel grimaced when a very familiar voice pierce through what was the air of his favourite sound ever: silence.

"Oi, Layton! Come out from there and show me your face will you?!"

The young man fought the strong urge to groan in annoyance. He rolled on to his side, making the branch he laid down on shift a little from the sudden movement, and glanced down towards the ground where he found none other than Alphonse Dalston glaring up at him in an impatient contrast.

Hershel hesitated in asking as his rectangular face took on an annoyed expression "...What do you want, Dalston?"

Dalston tutted while shaking his head to the sides before looking back up at the young man. The fact that his face was redder than usual proved that he was either not in a good mood or he had been made to do extra laps in P.E. but either way the young big man answered the question with a small hidden smile all the same.

"I want to chat about summit is all, no need for the hostility." Dalston held his hands up as if to give a gesture that would say "I'm not going to hurt you" and he had a very secret frown even though the lad he spoke to saw it quite clearly.

Hershel sighed and jumped out of the tree with an expert somersault, landing perfectly on his feet and his arms were spread out to the sides. His face was stone and his eyes were filled with sternness and had a huge lack of emotion.

He looked at Dalston for moments at a time until he barked at the other boy impaitently "Well? What is it?!"

Dalston was shocked. Hershel Layton was cross, the goody-two-shoes of Stansbury was angry!? He was so surprised that he found all the words he wanted to say before lodged in his throat, he saw a small look in the young man's eyes as they burned from anger but then they looked guilty as he paused for a moment and glanced away.

"...I'm sorry, I did not mean to snap." Hershel scuffled his foot on the ground whilst he apologized. He seemed genuinely sorry for losing his composure for those few seconds and Dalston, despite his usual mean demeanor, decided to offer his condolence for the hurting young lad as he patted his shoulder with a glazed look in his rough eyes.

Dalstron frowned as he made Hershel look right at him and he said in a surprisingly low voice "No, Layton, I should be the one whose sorry here. I just wanted to offer my..." He hesitated in saying the next part "...consolations for Bratscot."

Hershel was now very unsure if he had heard the young man right. Dalston was feeling sympathetic!? This was a first, especially as it was directed towards one of his very best friends. He hung his head sadly, rubbing his eye patch irritably as he felt a sudden ache in his heart and that throbbing in his bad eye that usually signaled that he was ready to cry.

He didn't speak. He just lost his voice as it had seized up in his throat. He looked sadly at the other young man but heard his next words rather faintly.

"You know, Lameton, there are rumors flying about that _you _were the cause of Bratscot's death."

Hershel's eyes instantly narrowed and he managed to quickly find that a sudden adrenaline rush took hold.

How dare they, they think that he killed Randall!? Did they really think that he would be so low as to murder anyone -especially his best friend!?

He was the most earnest guy in Stansbury and the children here were all treated with unique and special ways to make them feel like an equal and that unique method was also used on yours truly.

How could he have it in him to kill his best friend!?

"but I think it was-!"

He didn't even realize it but he had quickly found himself lifting Dalston -cutting him off from what he was about to say- up by the collar of his shirt, just barely lifting him off his feet as he jerked around in the young man's grip, and he looked at Hershel through fearful eyes.

Hershel panted and gasped as he felt himself instantly calm down. His rectangular face softened very slowly from its intense anger and he gently and slowly lowered Dalston back to his feet, his hand shaking from fright of what he had just tried to do. The two shared a very uncomfortable silence as they tried to get over the terror of what had just happened.

Turning his gaze away, young 17 year old Layton choked back a sigh as he climbed back up the tree he had hidden himself inside, grabbing on tightly to the trunk as he scaled the tree and hurriedly latched on to the heavy branch that would so hide him from the hurtful world outside.

Dalston didn't say a thing but he did turn and leave without saying another word.

Hershel turned on his side, turning his face gloomily away from everyone else and closing his eyes to block out all sights and other senses to prevent anything else from setting him off. He felt his heart ache and throb in his chest as he tried to disguise his anguish and pain with a calm and rather collected demeanour, this was something he had a huge difficulty doing.

He didn't even care if leaves and twigs got stuck in his Afro.

He lain on his side, wanting nothing more than to be swallowed up by anything and not having to worry about vicious rumours and false truths.

However he opened his eyes upon hearing a very familiar voice call out from somewhere below "Hershel, what are you doing up there?"

The young man's eyes opened. That voice sounded familiar! Could it be...?

He hoped that it was Angela, she didn't dare speak to him because she -like everyone else in Stansbury- thought that he killed Randall. Was she finally speaking to him again!? He lifted his head and turned to glance down at the mystery woman with happiness leaking into his voice "Angela, Angela is that you-!"

He stopped when he realized that it wasn't Angela there to forgive him. It was actually Claire and, as always, she seemed oblivious to his constant agony.

Letting out a sigh of disappointment and giving a sour face, Hershel returned to rolling on to his back to avoid looking at the girl below him. Right now he just wanted to be left alone with the excruciating pain of losing his best friend eating away at his heart and his good conscience and the puzzle he currently held in his hands.

Claire smiled up at him "Hello again, Hershel, what's up?"

Hershel didn't speak a word. He didn't want to talk. He knew it would be rude if he didn't answer her so he simply gave a noise that implied that he didn't know.

Claire smirked snidely at that response. She sat at the foot of the tree with her back against the oak wood layering the big, strong truck. She even closed her eyes peacefully and allowed the wind to bristle her vibrant red hair and carry her ponytail a bit as it fluttered loosely.

There was some silence until Claire spoke up again.

"Whats that your holding?" She asked, referring to the puzzle box the young man fiddled around with.

Hershel's gaze momentarily left the curious little box he held and he glanced back down to her. He didn't say anything for a moment before he answered the question with his tone low and heavy from depression, it even sounded a bit croaky "...Its a puzzle box."

Claire's head perked up. Her face twisted in slight confusion but a smile graced her lips all the same as she repeated "A puzzle box?"

Layton gave a small noise to confirm this, too lazy to nod. His eyes drifted down to the ground below the branch cradling him and towards the young lady sitting just beneath him but that frown remained plastered against his lips. His mouth stretched into a straight line across his face as he folded his arms leisurely behind his head and closed his eyes to relax.

He didn't wish to say anymore on the matter.

...He snapped opened an eye when his ears detected the sound of an impatient "ahem" sound and he looked back down at Claire whom glared at him impatiently. Her mood seemed to have changed from cheery to intense within the batter of an eyelid.

Claire shifted in place and folded her arms across her chest as she furrowed a brow. She said one, simple word as she done this "Elaborate."

Hershel fought the urge to smack his own forehead but the irritated groan did manage to escape his throat as he bolted up into a sitting up position. What he did not realize, however, was that this sudden rash movement was enough to make the branch he lain on top of creak beneath the pressure and he suddenly found himself zipping downwards.

Some free leaves flew in the fresh gust of wind idly as the branch fell to the ground with Hershel sitting on top of it.

A wide-eyed Layton sat there in silence as he tried to get over the shock of what had just happened. Did the branch just give up under the weight? What on earth could have caused that?! He thought that the branch was sturdy enough to hold him!

He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes into tight slits. He gathered the puzzle box into his procession and he bolted upwards into a standing position to storm off into a new direction.

But that was rewarded with Claire grabbing his hand to prevent him from leaving and when Hershel glanced over his shoulder to snap at her and tell her to let go of his hand and leave him be, he was silenced by a puppy-dog eyed look. The young girl smiled cutely as she blinked her pretty eyes at him yet the frames of her glasses were glinting in the sunlight that penetrated passed the newly found hole in Layton's hiding tree.

Hershel couldn't deny it, she was very adorable.

His angered gaze melted under that cute look and he rolled his eyes and sighed deeply through gritted teeth that faded into that straight-mouthed frown he sported mere moments ago.

He just couldn't fight her like this. If she wanted to know about puzzles then who was he to say "no"?

Sighing in defeat, he managed to make her release his hand as he turned back towards her and seated himself beside Claire, adjusting the puzzle box in his grip so he could hold it up for her to see. He explained to her in a lighter tone of voice, making it sound somewhat like a teacher explaining something to her student.

"Now, Claire. If you think that I like solving just simple jig-saw puzzles then you are sorely mistaken; I like the brain-teasing puzzles that make your mind endure a thralling spin for the solution."

He didn't notice that his tone had taken a somewhat passionate twist. He spoke with this slight wistful breathlessness that had completely betrayed the fact that he really enjoyed the thrills and thoughts of solving such an amazing (and literal) mind-game. Ever since that incident, he had grown to appreciate puzzles just a bit more and he didn't know it himself but he actually found a desire to solve those puzzles.

Claire listened intently, taking every word into account.

Layton carried on regardless "A riddle is something that you need a good brain for and anyone could try their hand at such a puzzling query. It could even make a good hobby should you yearn for a job involving your intellectual skills."

He looked at her and stared, his dot-like eyes locking on to her big saucer-like ones. She was somewhat enchanting to look at but he didn't really think much of it, he didn't think she could ever love him. Shaking his head rapidly to snap himself out of his daze, Hershel glanced back at the puzzle box in his hand and she suddenly asked a question that surprised him:

"Can I try my head at one?"

The 17 year old Layton was astonished. Claire _really _wanted to try a puzzle so suddenly? He wasn't sure he should let her but he thought that, since she asked so nicely, he may as well test how smart she was. She did seem really clever in a sense, she had an intelligent air about her.

Nodding his head in approval, Hershel gave her an example "Alright, here is a simple one: what is as light as air and a million men can't lift it?"

Claire's face strained as if she was in deep thought. She put a finger to her chin as she hummed thoughtfully, thinking about what the solution could possibly be as she twiddled her knees against the blades of grass she sat on. The question probably made her head hurt and she even stressed her young brain over it.

Hershel looked patiently at Claire as she was apparently thinking it over. Maybe she couldn't think of the answer, maybe he had pushed her a bit hard despite it being a very easy puzzle to solve!

However, the answer simply slipped from Claire's mouth "Ummm...A bubble?"

Hershel was impressed. She solved it, she actually solved it! He didn't know that bubbly young lady could solve it in all honesty but he shouldn't be rude in thinking that. He merely nodded with a secret smirk, trying his best not to show the smile that he had suppressed for so long.

Layton put the puzzle box down on the ground beside him and he blinked his un-patched eye "Yes. Well done, Miss Foley."

Claire giggled, sheepishly reaching up and scratching the back of her head as she done so. She felt her fingers dig through her vibrant red hair and touch her scalp as she closed her eyes and tried to hide the blush painting her precious cheeks a deep shade of scarlet.

She bashfully lifted her spectacled eyes up to the blue skies above and she tripped on her own words whilst he tried to thank the young lad sporting the impressive Afro "W-Why thank you..."

The two wanted to continue this nice little chat. But, much like all good things, it wasn't meant to last. As they were about to say something and resume their friendly little puzzle bout, the bell rang and shattered everything like thin ice cracking beneath the weight of an obese person who just happened to have been standing on it.

The two stood up and went to go and reenter the school building.

Hershel gathered up the puzzle box he held previously and he stuffed it into his pocket to continue trying to solve later whilst Claire picked up her satchel bag and wrapped the strap around her own shoulder so it could stay on and not slip off and risk her things tumbling out.

The pair walked alongside each other as they walked along the school grounds. They didn't mind the stream of students also walking towards the entrance behind them and as they were about to go through the double doors welcoming their presence back inside the school, Claire smiled kindly as she shot a sideways glance to the lad she asked him "So are you going to geography next?"

Hershel shook his head and answered "No. I'm going to music next."

Claire seemed disappointed to hear that. Her eyes became downcast for a moment and she seemed sad to hear that answer, actually and unknowingly breaking Layton's heart in the process, but her face perked up a bit when she thought of a brighter side "Well, maybe I can come and see you at home?"

It was Hershel's turn to look sad as he reluctantly shook his head to the sides. He knew better than anyone that this wasn't possible for one reason and one reason he really didn't want to be. Sagging his shoulders sadly, the lad's voice mulled into a low mumble and he said grumpily "I won't be at home, I have work tonight."

Claire noticed that Hershel's entire demeanour changed at the mention of his job. It was probably the one he had at the lemonade shop, the one she met him at. She actually noticed something when she recounted yesterday's events when she saw Hershel last. He had a black eye yesterday, on the eye he just so happened to have been covering up with that patch!

Could Hershel actually be being abused at work!?

The young lady didn't say a word but was now very suspicious. Her face betrayed her suspicious feelings towards the lad's job and Hershel noticed. He gave her a stone face as his face tightened and his eyes became solid.

His voice wobbled shiftily as he turned his face away from her "...Never mind my job; I'll see you later, Claire."

With that, Hershel darted off into a different direction and he disappeared into the sea of students.

Claire reached out towards him to try and stop him but he was already gone. She wanted to yell at him to wait but she couldn't form the words, they had become tangled in her throat and her eyes grew saddened by this poor lad's obvious brooding.

Her heart ached for her newfound friend.

Maybe she could try and soothe the hurt he was all too obviously experiencing. Either way, he was clearly acting very strange and very much like he was forcing himself through the anguish.

He needed help...and she was going to provide that help!

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><p><strong>AN: Poor young Professor Layton, he seems to be utterly suffering with this.**

**Lets see what happens in the next chapter, at least Hershel and Claire had a bonding moment. They seemed to have enjoyed themselves very much and Hershel just might take Claire under his wing when it comes to puzzles and he might teach her. **

**Can Claire help Layton? How can she accomplish her goal? **

**Stay tuned and find out next! **

**-Chloemcg**


	5. Heroic rescue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton or Claire or anyone else in this story, they belong to Level 5 games and nobody else!**

**Learning how to love.**

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><p>Claire walked home alone with a lowly, patchy umbrella hovering over her to shelter her from the rain hammering down all around her.<p>

Late dusk had arrived early, covering everything in the darkness of the night and there was only the old lanterns hanging by people's houses to light up the depressing atmosphere as she felt her shoes flood and her clothes and hair become absolutely soaking wet from the heavy amount of moisture hanging in the air around her.

She had a slight hop in her step as she tried to do anything and everything to prevent herself from getting anymore soaked by the rain that was absolutely pouring down. She didn't even realise that the heavens had been opening since the minute both Hershel and herself had been pardoned from the school grounds after some stuff about Hersh needing to head off to work and her parents wanting her home.

Claire gave a thoughtful hum as she slowly eyed her surroundings, feeling cornered all of a sudden. She felt like a deer whom had vicious predators maliciously circling her like the cornered prey she was in that visualised situation. But she decided to press onwards encase she was just being paranoid.

Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she walked on through the dark of night with her soaking wet school bag wrapped around her shoulder. Her eyes squinted as huge drops of rain began to plummet down and drop evenly upon the lens of her glasses, caking them in drops of water and obscuring her vision in the process.

Because of this, and walking blindly, she accidently wandered into an alleyway.

When she stopped for a moment to clean her glasses, making certain that she was taking some shelter, she found that she had done this as she gazed at her surroundings with fear etched deeply on her round face and her mouth was formed into a little 'o' as she backed slowly away to step back into the rain.

However suddenly something snagged Claire by the wrist, making her drop her umbrella as she gasped in shock, and she found that she was looking right into the eyes of a maniac.

It was a boy older then she was and he was surrounded by a pack of other boy's whom decided to surround her just encase she wanted to get away. They all wore cruel grins as they all blocked her path in a ring of this group. Each and everyone of them were cloaked in the shadows as they glared daggers at her through glowing yellow eyes that shone through the joint darkness of the alleyway and night.

Those eyes vaguely reminded Claire of those intimidating wolves that usually star in classic cartoon films and chase the main character in a dark and spooky woodlands.

Claire shivered but she didn't know whether it was from fear or from the cold of the night. Either way, she didn't care.

"Where are you going, little lady?" The leader which grabbed Claire's wrist asked smugly.

She couldn't answer.

Every word she wanted to speak was caught in her throat as her lower lip quivered in fear while tears welled up inside her big, round eyes. She was very much afraid of what was happening here, her heart was beating about three thousand miles a minute and she couldn't hope but feel all the colour drain from her face and leaving it chalk white.

With a shaky voice, she demanded while fighting to get the boy to release her wrist "L-Let me g-go!"

The man only grinned wider upon seeing the young lady struggle. It was like he expected a bit of a fight from her, and he was enjoying each and every second of observing her trying to get away from him as he gripped her wrist even tighter in joy.

The shadowed boy began cackling with a wicked intent.

He turned his head to face the other boys and he asked through a very slimy, sly tone "My, my, a fighter this one. What say we 'play' with her a bit?"

Claire stopped struggling. She looked worriedly around her as she noticed the boy's advance her until she felt really claustrophobic. Tears began to pour down her face as she began to realise exactly what they were going to do with her and she slowly backed into a corner and gave one last attempt to try and get them to leave her be.

"_P-P-Please_, leave me alone..." She dropped to her legs and started sobbing out of fear and she squeezed her eyes shut to brace herself for the abuse sent her way.

She felt weak and useless. Usually she was way feistier than this but her weaker side took over, making her feel scared and alone. She could hear the rumbling of the thunder above in her ears as lightning clapped, temporarily blinding everyone for a split few seconds before it finally subsided into thin air.

It was then she realised that nothing was happening. Did they just stop for some reason?

She opened her eyes reluctantly, terrified as to what would behold her when she fully opened them, but she gasped at who she saw standing in front of her with a sabre in hand and they looked soaking wet to the bone.

"H-Hershel?!" She sniffled, her eyes widening immensely as she saw the back view of her friend.

Hershel Layton paid no mind to Claire but he stood defensively in front of her, an angered look on his face as lingering raindrops poured down his head. He glared right into the eyes of those boy's who wanted to harm Claire and they seemed pretty frightened themselves, clearly afraid that another boy had joined the party.

Layton gave a stiff growl as he expertly twirled the blade in his hands while it was pointed towards them.

"You keep your filthy fingers off of her!" Hershel growled.

He adjusted his stance so he could be standing in front of Claire, distancing her from the boy's cloaked by the shadows, and he gave the most sternest look imaginable as he narrowed his little black eyes and frowned. He watched as the boy's sneakily tried to go around the young lad sporting the chestnut brown Afro but he was on his guard and whipped his body in their direction.

He was clearly very much tentative to each movements the boys made for the young lady.

Layton used one hand to dust off his filthy red school vest and he resumed trying to intimidate the bullies so they would leave the poor terrified girl alone.

Should they try and threaten Claire, he was going to make sure that they don't even look at her before he struck like a cobra. He would rather be injured himself then let any harm come to a young lady in trouble. He may have been sour lately but that didn't exactly mean that he was heartless.

The leader of the pack dived at Hershel in an attempt to fight him but he quickly dodged the pathetic attack and smacked the hilt of the sword he clutched down on his noggin.

And all at once the professor-to-be was surrounded.

Layton fought them off, a full fit of fury making him whip his sword about in a frenzy as he tried to disarm each and every one of them. He grunted and pivoted on the balls of his heels as he tried his best to attack and he even twirled on the spot when he sliced the material of one of the boy's woollen black jumpers.

He shown nobody a shred of mercy. He cut the pack down one-by-one as he charged at them and he swung his fencing sword at them, just barely knicking the soft velvet clothing each and everyone of these wolffish adversaries. He gave continuous grunts of effort as he fought each and every one of those fools off.

It took about ten minutes or so but eventually all of the boy's were cut down unconscious. They were all now lying on the cold hard concrete of the alley with no signs of quick recovery.

Panting for a minute to wait for his breath to catch up with him, Hershel very slowly turned around and looked down at Claire.

The poor lass was still traumatised out of her mind as she shuddered against the wall, still on the floor as she stared into nothing but into space.

She had a very cold sweat dripping from down her face but that could be the rain as either way, but her breathing was very shallow and her pupils shrank and grew in dilation. Claire trembled and shook and her voice was no longer working to provide any good verbal communication and, after moments of a frozen fear, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell into a deep unconsciousness that was remarkably similar to her attackers.

"Claire!" Hershel gasped, quickly grasping her hand to check for a pulse.

He sighed in relief. A pulse was there; weak but still present.

Getting down to meet her on eye level, Hershel carefully gathered the unconscious girl into his arms as he stood up on his own two feet.

Actually, surprisingly, she wasn't that heavy. She was actually very light in his sturdy arms as she lain limp inside them. Hershel looked down at her face whilst he used a free hand to wipe a strand of her soaking wet red hair out of her eye before he looked off into the distance in deep thought.

It wouldn't do any good to just leave her out here and it wouldn't be healthy to just stay in this soaking wet alleyway where both of them could catch cold.

He was on his way to work with his fencing equipment that he had picked up from the assembly hall at school earlier when he heard spotted her wandering blindly into this alley and he decided to follow her to check if she was alright after noticing that she was taking an awful long time to get out of there.

Sighing with a shake of the head, it was decided: Claire should stay at his house tonight.

He didn't exactly know where she lived and he doubted that he could leave out at any old house where she would feel afraid. His house would be the logical choice here, unfortunately.

He would have to go straight to work and leave her with his parents, though...

"Come on, you..." Hershel muttered beneath his breath as he carried Claire through the rain with his fencing sword strapped into his belt holster and he wandered alone into the pitch black night with the rain becoming even heavier.

Exiting the alley, the young lad carrying Claire's limp form began to take the lonesome route home.

Another clap of thunder struck the whole of Stansbury as Hershel Layton carried the young lady all the home bridal-style with his footsteps being the only noise vibrating through the heavy, moisture-laden air. The two school students had no idea what else was going to happen.

He even seemed to have forgotten to bring Claire's umbrella along.

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><p><strong>AN: Awww, Hershel saved Claire...although he seemed to have been very reluctant on doing this for some reason. Maybe he was just not comfortable on the idea of bringing a girl home and giving his parents a heart attack.**

**But, anyway, let's see where this leads...**

**When will Hershel go from Stansbury, you may ask? You shall find this out later.**

**-Chloemcg**


	6. Recovery

**Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton or Claire or anyone else in this story, they belong to Level 5 games and nobody else!**

**Learning how to love.**

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><p>Claire's vision was blurry as she finally began to come to.<p>

She could hardly feel a single limb in her body except for the abnormally strong beating of her own heart. It felt like it could burst at any single moment at the rate it was going at and that wasn't even an exaggeration. She could not move, she could not really think but she could only try and blink the mist out of her vision and try and clear the fog inside her mind.

She noticed that her vision was rather faded around the edges as she blinked her spectacled eyes repeatedly, unable to do much else as she tried to sit up.

Her efforts were proven in vain.

She then began to hear voices. They were none she recognised but they seemed so soft and so tender that those voices actually made her feel safe from harm. Claire wanted nothing more then for both of those kindly voices to just wrap around her heart and to give her something that her own parents had neglected to give her.

She tried and tried to think about what had happened earlier but she couldn't think really well since her memories had been severed in parts, making her memories of what happened before she passed out incomplete.

_"Dear? Can you hear me, sweetheart?" _One of the voices asked, a female.

Claire's vision started to come back into focus as she squinted her eyes. She could vaguely feel her muscles ache while she was slowly regaining her bearings and she felt something warm draped against her. From what she could feel on both her back and covering her entire body from the shoulder down, she guessed that she was lying on a sofa with a blanket draped over her.

As her vision cleared, she noticed that her suspicions were correct.

She was, indeed, laying down on a sofa with a soft woollen blanket wrapped around her and a kindly woman was kneeling right beside her with a very soft smile tugging at the corners of her sweet lips. Her eyes were soft and she even wiped away some loose strands of Claire's vibrant red hair from her eyes that were naked without her glasses.

The woman, known as Lucille Layton, softly called out to her again "Claire, love, it is alright to open your eyes." She stroked her head much like a loving mother would when their child was crying their eyes out and sobbing hysterically. She tended to the wounded young girl's weak form sprawled out on the sofa while she worriedly reached over to the coffee table beside her and sponged what appeared to be a mark on her wrist.

So, trying to blink the dots out of her flitting vision, Claire finally got her head focused and realised that she was in what looked like a very nice house.

Smiling cheerfully, Lucille suddenly yelled over her shoulder towards an open doorway "Roland! the dear is awake!" Her voice was like a the "boom" of a continental explosion that could echo throughout the entire universe.

Within seconds, the big burly man with the Snow White beard named Roland came rushing into the room. He wore a concerned expression on his face and his non existent squinted eyes were scrunched in fear. However he had such a kind look that someone could easily mistake him as Santa Claus should he have been clad in red.

The man got down on his knee and examined Claire for himself, checking her over thoroughly with a hand raised to begin stroking his chin. He seemed to be thinking deeply for whatever reason.

The couple smiled down sweetly at the girl -despite Claire not being able to see them well because of the absence of her glasses- and Lucille asked the girl softly "Are you feeling alright, my dear?"

Claire didn't answer right away. She honestly didn't know if she was alright or not. She could hardly feel her muscles work and she felt heavy on the sofa she lain down on, kind of like a log floating in water not lacking a better description of her current state. The young girl sighed and looked up at the two through her bleary view on the world.

"I...I'm fine thank you." Claire smiled weakly at them.

Roland passed Claire her glasses and plonked the spectacles against the bridge of nose.

Thanking them, Claire gingerly sat up with a long moan of exhaustion. She used the bottom of the seat she lain on to support herself whilst carrying out this task to get herself into a sitting position and she had a kind and warm look that tried to compare to both Roland and Lucille's warm grins...it could not.

Whence she was properly anchored the girl decided to strike up some conversation with the two; "So," Claire started tiredly "what happened?"

Lucille smiled softly, pushing Claire back down so she wouldn't tire herself out too quickly. Her eyes were tired and somewhat concerned for the girl but she answered the question anyway since she deserved to hear what had happened to her.

She tilted her head to one side but replied in a honeyed voice:

"Apparently you wandered into a dangerous alleyway and got assaulted by some scoundrels; Hershel was on his way back from the school hall to drop off his fencing equipment at home when he claimed he saw you on your own. He hid behind a bush since he didn't want to startle you, according to him, but when he saw that you hadn't come out after a long time, he went in after you and brought you home."

Claire blinked, trying to take in all this new information. Hershel had actually saved her? Now that she thought about it she did recall being snatched by the wrist and almost being forced into a very nasty situation and then someone coming to rescue her. Then she realised...was Hershel alright!?

Thankfully Roland had saw the look on her face and knew precisely what she was thinking even before she blurted out what her mind was basically screaming to know. He reassured her softly to calm her stressed brain "Now, now, m'dear. Hershel is just fine; he dropped you off here at home just before he had to go off to work."

Claire registered this. So this is where Hershel lived was it? Well it seemed like a very nice place and she was actually sort of jealous. Hershel lived in a very nice neighbourhood and in a very nice house, he also appeared to have been pampered like a prized poodle in this nice little village. It sort of surprised her that he had been brooding.

If her guess was correct then Roland and Lucille were Hershel's parents...maybe they would know something about his behaviour.

The young lady arched her head one side. Her face twisted in confusion, her lips were yanked into a frown and her eyes were big and glassy. She sighed as she twiddled her thumbs absent-mindedly.

Looking up, Claire asked them both "Mr and Mrs Layton, what happened to your son to make him so...bitter ?"

Lucille and Roland seemed surprised that she knew that they were Hershel's parents but that was the least of their concerns. They looked a bit saddened and those were actual expressions that broke Claire's heart that made her almost sorry she'd asked. But she had to know what she could do to assist the lad and this was the only way she knew how.

The troubled parents turned on their feet and sat before Claire with solemn faces and they took some time to collect themselves.

It felt like an entire eternity until Roland answered the question with a sour heart and he seated himself down next to his wife on a sofa opposite the one Claire rested on, resting the palms of his hands on his lap, and he cast his squinty little eye sadly downwards and away from the eyes of the young lady they were supposed to be keeping a watch on.

"...Its because of the poor boy's best friend."

Claire's head perked up in interest. Hershel's best friend? What about them? What could have happened to make the lad so bitter and sour to the world...it was a strange, actually; while Hershel was so cold he had a remaining shred of honour about him that actually made her think of a true gentleman.

Hmmm...Hershel, a gentleman. That had a nice ring to it actually.

Shaking the thought out of her head, Claire listened intently to what the Layton couple had to say.

She had a feeling that this would lead her into something huge here.

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><p><strong>AN: Sorry about the short chapter, guys. I was just busy today. **

**Lets see what Hershel is doing while this is happening, shall we? I hope to get the next chapter out soon so please bear with me.**

**I love LaytonXClaire, their a cute couple. I also recently finished PL and the Lost future. It was a good game. :)**

**Please review.**

**-Chloemcg**


	7. Memories of pain

**Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton or Claire or anyone else in this story, they belong to Level 5 games and nobody else!**

**Learning how to love.**

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><p><em>Hershel's eyes were wide with terror and his breath hitched, the upper half of his body hanging over the edge of a ravine to which a young boy about his age was grabbing hold.<em>

_ This lad was a boy who wore dark glasses, had red hair, wore an orange neckerchief and sported a purple jacket. He grabbed tightly on to Hershel's wrist with one hand and held on tight to a golden mask with the other. The boy frowned sadly as he looked up at the other boy with the Afro whom was trying to heave his friend up to safety._

_"R-Randal, I can't hold on!" Hershel yelled desperately, watching his friend dangle with helpless eyes. _

_The boy, named Randal, gulped as he apologised pitifully "I was so close. I'm sorry, Hershel. I let you down. Tell Angela I'm sorry!" _

_Despite Randal's pleas for forgiveness, however, Hershel shook his head in defiance. He was going to have none of this and he felt his chest hurt from either the thought of losing Randal or having to explain to his friends where the boy had gone. He shook his head and perished the thought, he was going to pull Randal up and there was nothing that could tell him to do otherwise._

_He swallowed, beads of sweat trickling down his face, and he yelled "I can't pull you up. Now drop the mask and give me your other hand!"_

_Randal ignored him and proceeded to give his friend the mask which he had been holding in his other hand. He smiled sadly with a braveness glimmering in his innocent yet clever eyes and swung his free arm upwards with the mask ready to be passed over. _

_He swung in Hershel's tight grip, much like a pendulum and he said "Take the mask, it's yours. You must solve the last puzzle, Hershel.."_

_"Here!"_

_Randal began to give the golden mask to his friend but, before Hershel could receive it, the man's hand slipped through his fingers and he fell into the black abyss below with a begging look glued to his face with his eyes big and still sparkling with courage although he gasped very shortly with fright as he plummeted downwards._

_His breath hitched in his throat while Hershel's eyes widened with shock. He had just let Randal fall! He reached his hand out towards him still even though his friend had just vanished into the ravine below. Layton blinked back the tears and he gave a very loud cry for his lost friend's name...and his voice echoed into the pitch black abyss below:_

_"RANDAL!"_

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><p>Claire couldn't believe what she had just heard.<p>

Randal fell into a ravine?...Hershel had watched his very best friend perish even though he tried so hard to save him. She felt her heard break into two and she couldn't hold back and look of remorse that had crept upon her round face while her mouth had formed an open-mouthed frown.

She now understood what happened to make the lad so brooding.

Anyone would be suffering with eternal injuries after going through such trauma. The young girl simply looked at Hershel's dishearted parents and she could clearly see that they two felt saddened of what had happened to the boy that had been recently lost to them all and they couldn't help but feel their hearts snap as they sat there with their heads low.

Claire remained silent and adjusted the frames of her glasses over her eyes and she looked off to the side sadly. That poor man...

Roland, regardless of the sadness lingering in the air, continued "Ever since then, the boy shut himself inside. He isn't allowing anybody to really chat to him and his ol' friends are shunning him as if the whole accident is his fault..."

Claire sighed. She had always wondered what it would have been like if someone should have to carry the burden of loneliness all on their own and now she understood that someone had been forced to carry that burden all alone. Nobody was reaching out towards him and nobody seemed to care and pretended he wasn't there whence he was present in the area.

She looked up, a renewed determination shining in her eyes, and she gently patted Lucille's limp hands in assurance as she managed to gently smile at both Lucille and Roland Layton.

"D-Don't you worry none," She said with a quivering smile "H-Hershel won't be alone anymore with me around."

Claire didn't know what she was going to do.

How could she help heal such a badly broken heart? It was clear that the young man was going through hell and he was already so alone in this world...however it seemed that he wasn't completely destroyed. He had some qualities that would make him still a good person still salvageable, almost like a gentleman.

Her eyes lit up like lights.

A gentleman. Maybe that would help him get motivated. But it seemed that she would have to ponder more on that thought later on since maybe all the man needed was some comfort, he was already languishing enough as it is and he didn't need somebody to tell him what to do and such.

She slowly stood up, despite Lucille and Roland's insistence for her to lay back down but before she could take a single step the door opened and standing in the doorway was a knackered-looking Hershel.

The man had his hand to the door and his whole body looked like it had been dragged through the mud from china and back. There was even a few bruises that Claire had managed to catch a glimpse of as he stood there for moments at a time before he quickly took action by whirling his face towards the left.

Claire wasn't fooled.

She _saw _those bruises covering the right side of his face and nobody could tell her otherwise.

Lucille's head perked up in surprise as she looked at her son.

"Hershel, dear," she began with wide eyes "are you feeling alright?"

Hershel didn't respond but he kept his sad gaze to the floor below. He muttered something incoherent with his hands clutching into fight fists, clearly something was bothering him -it was probably the injuries- and the fact that his teeth were gritted was almost enough to give everything away.

Finally he answered "I-I'm fine!"

The fact that his voice was squeaky and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut proved that he was hurting. He sullenly darted up the stairs without saying so much as another word with his sleeve flying up to his eyes and his hushed voice laced with somber sobs made it obvious that his heart was hurting.

He ran so fast up the stairs that by the time Claire and everyone else managed to move their legs the door to the lad's room had already slammed shut.

Claire, Lucille and Roland stood in the hallways in front of Hershel's bedroom door with regretful looks on their faces. The hall was darker and had a more morbid air hanging around since the only light that came into the dull hallways was the light shining from the open door of the bathroom.

The trio didn't say a word.

Lucille and Roland looked at each other worriedly before they headed back downstairs while Claire stayed put.

When she listened closely, she could hear the muffled sobs of Hershel from behind the closed mahogany door and she couldn't help but feel pity. That poor kid had lost his friend whom died right before his eyes because he let a life literally slip through his fingers.

The young girl had to do something, anything, for the boy. He had saved her from a gang of guys earlier so she had to do something to rescue him from the anguish he was suffering from right now. She spoke softly to the door, loud enough for the grieving young man barred up inside the room but not loud enough for Lucille and Roland hear him;

"Hershel...no matter how many people you push away, I will always be there right by you." She vowed, sinking down to the floor with her back against the door and she closed her eyes in order to closely listen for any reply that Hershel may or may not give her.

As expected, Hershel continued to sob quietly to himself...

She eventually let herself drift off to sleep with her back against the door as she let her head fall with exhaustion. Claire let all thoughts of how to make the young 17 year old feel better drown all her subconscious thoughts and cloud all of her better judgement.

Time blurred on and when Hershel finally resurfaced, he had a hand pressed to his bruised cheek and he opened the door a bit which was not opening the whole way because when it did try and open, it very lightly tapped Claire's back.

Looking to see what caused the obstruction, Hershel Layton's eyes widened when he saw Claire laying against the door fast asleep. He was deeply confused. Had she been there the whole time? The man with the Afro couldn't help but allow the corners of his lips to curl upwards to form a very small smile.

Claire had done this for him?

Hershel sighed softly as he retreated back into his room to grab a spare blanket. He returned a minute later and draped the blanket over the girl's front before tucking it around her whilst being careful not to awake her. He felt his heart warm up slightly as he tried to imagine why she had done this for him? It wasn't like he did something of any use in return to deserve her kindness.

After making sure the blankets were successfully bundled around her, Hershel closed the door again to lull Claire back to her slumber deep and he decided to get some sleep of his own since he had exhausted himself from all the crying he had done...not to mention, his work had taken a lot out of him with the new bruises on his face.

Softly shutting the door, Hershel whispered to nothing and nobody in particular as he had his back pressed against the wall and he looked out into the world outside. It looked so vibrant and classical, so soft and delicate and the dark blue blanket that was the skies were dotted with bright little stars that twinkled in the skies lining his bedroom window.

If he closed his eyes, he could vaguely imagine touching one of those stars. It made him feel...somewhat content.

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><p><strong>AN: That's the end of this new chapter of "Learning how to love", I said I'd update it! Anyways it seems that Hershel is still greiving over the loss of Randal and is thinking about a lot of things...including his abusive job at that lemonade shop. **

**What else will happen when Hershel decides to confront Angela and Henry?**

**Find out in the next chapter! **

**-Chloemcg**


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